


Hell and High Water

by lavellanpls



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Drowning, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, Phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4424879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavellanpls/pseuds/lavellanpls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt: <i>"The Inquisitor has a phobia and it sucks."</i></p><p>The Inquisitor is not fearless. Solas seems to forget that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Solas should have known something was wrong. Lavellan liked the Storm Coast—there were caverns to explore, dwarven ruins to comb over, darkspawn to utterly annihilate (and she did _so_ very enjoy that). She thrived battling monsters in the mist—a glowing green beacon amidst the chaos, their own unlikely protector.

They were hunting dragonlings off the coast, venturing further and further from shore down a rocky peninsula. Scouts reported demon activity nearby; a possible rift, somewhere off Morrin’s Outlook. And Lavellan was entirely _Lavellan_ —a shock of white hair darting through the fog, shouting (unnecessary) obscenities at snapping dragons. She led from the front with Bull and Cassandra flanking close behind, and everything should have been fine. _Was_ fine, up until the very instant it wasn’t.

When they rounded the hill and saw the rift, something changed.

The ground dropped off into a sheer cliffside that only barely sloped into a rocky ledge below. Built shakily beside it was a long-abandoned dock, and far from that, glittering high above the waves: a rift.

Lavellan froze at the top of the hill.

Sera sucked in a sharp, hissing inhale behind her. “Frig. That’s… _out_ there.” She squinted into the distance with a skeptical frown. “Can she even reach that far?”

“We must try, at least.” Cassandra urged. “Without closing it, we have no hope of reclaiming the coast.”

Lavellan hadn’t moved. Hadn’t taken her eyes off the dark surf. “I don’t…um. I mean- Out _there?_ ”

Solas failed to notice the quake in her voice. He shielded his eyes against the howling wind, trying to pin the rift’s distance. “It’s far,” he decided, “but you should be able to reach it from the dock. We can cover you while you-”

“No.”

Finally, Solas stopped. He turned back, confused. “…no?”

“I can’t get out that far,” she argued. The color was steadily draining from her face. “That’s…no, no we can do this another way, maybe-”

“There’s no time,” he stated. “It’s spawning demons as we sp-”

“I _can’t,_ ” she insisted, and he saw her physically pull back.

For a moment he couldn’t figure out what was wrong—was she hurt? _Sick?_ But then he looked at her face, and saw something…strange.

“…are you… _afraid?_ ”

“Shut up,” she hissed.

That was ridiculous, though. She couldn’t be _afraid,_ she’d faced monsters, _demons_ …“…can you not swim?”

She hissed her reply through gritted teeth. “ _I can swim._ ”

Solas could only stare, seemingly at a loss.

Sera seemed to catch on first.

Suddenly she was beside Lavellan, hand snapping to her elbow. “Whatever; we can always come back, yeah? Need to restock bees, anyway. Let’s just…deal with this junk later.”

Solas pinned her with a frigid glare. “We need to close it _now,_ before more demons come through. We don’t have time for-” What even was this? An outburst? An _episode?_ “There is a _tear_ in the _Veil_ into the _Fade_. And you would have us…come back later?”

After a moment’s consideration, Cassandra added the tentative addendum, “It will get worse the longer it’s open.”

“She knows how the stupid things work,” Sera bit back. “You don’t need to _remind_ her.”

“It begs repeating,” Solas argued. “We must close it _now_.”

“ _Piss off,_ ” Sera spat. “Saying that over and over doesn’t make anything _better._ ”

“ _You are not helping_.”

“You’re the one who’s not helping!” She’d released her vice-hold on Lavellan’s arm to ball her hands into unconscious fists. “You’re supposed to be her stupid elfy _love_ or something; aren’t you supposed to give a shit about her?”

“The rift needs to be _closed,_ ” he maintained, irritation giving way to something decidedly sharper.

“Oh, close your frigging _face_. Fuck the rift! It’s not like the stupid thing’s going anywhere!”

Lavellan was slowly inching backward while they argued, steady hands suddenly beginning to ever-so-slightly tremble. It shouldn’t have been noticeable.

Iron Bull noticed anyway. “Hey. Boss.”

She snapped back as if startled.

“You feeling okay?”

The rest of the party paused bickering long enough to look her way, and Lavellan visibly _shrunk_. It took far too long for her to respond. When she did, it was in a voice not entirely _hers_. “…yeah. Whatever. Just…get me a clear shot. Fingers crossed we don’t need a boat.”

And wrong as everything was, Solas agreed. Because this was the _Inquisitor,_ after all—he’d already watched her hack apart _literal physical embodiments_ of her fears in the Fade at Adamant. Spiders, if he remembered correctly. So this, then…

He watched her suck in a deep, shaky breath that never released. Something was wrong, and he knew that, but she’d faced worse. Had _killed_ worse. This would be fine.

As they picked their way down the rocky cliffside, Iron Bull slowed near his side. He nodded toward Lavellan with an unhappy grunt. “Watch her,” he instructed. “That won’t end well.”

He should have known it was wrong the moment he cast a barrier on her. Normally she charged into battle head-first, axe swinging. She’d cut a path through their enemies with brutal finesse, pausing only to set sights on a new target. She was _indomitable._ But this was different. She hung back on the outskirts of the fray, getting tangled up in clusters of demons instead of getting near the rift. Their presence alone was drawing more spirits through, more unwanted attention from the other side. The demons were spawning bigger. At this rate they’d overpower her before she ever got the thing sealed, and then-

There wasn’t time for that.

He knocked back a wraith with a well-timed veilstrike and got close enough to shout. “You need to get closer!”

“It won’t _matter,_ ” she argued, and the panic bubbling up beneath her tone set him on edge. That wasn’t what her voice was supposed to sound like. “It’s too far out; I won’t-”

“ _Go!_ ” He grabbed her by the forearm and forcibly dragged her to the water, temporarily ignoring how her heels seemed to scrape into the rocks. There wouldn’t be time to retreat now—not with such a narrow passage back up the cliffs. There’d be nowhere to run if they couldn’t get the rift sealed. Something was more and more clearly _wrong_ but it would be more wrong if she was dead. Already preparing a thousand apologies, he shoved her onto the dock and twisted back just in time to cast a wall of ice between them and a screeching terror demon. “ _Hurry!_ ”

The dock swayed worryingly beneath her, jutting too far out into choppy water. Whatever ships were meant to anchor here had long ago decayed. Or perhaps sank. Lavellan thrust out a green-glowing palm, but the distance was too much, the tenuous connection thinning and breaking with each surge of power. She needed to be closer. On trembling legs, she took a step forward.

Solas stole a moment to look back from the fresh onslaught of demons, and knew with a sinking sense of dread that this was going to end _wrong_.

Standing on the sagging edge of the dock, arm thrust into the air, she finally snagged a connection. The initial shock of energy nearly pulled her into the water, but she rocked back enough to keep steady. Just a little longer…

With a crackling _pop,_ the rift sealed shut and snapped her connection. The force jolted her forward only an inch, but in the wind and rain, it was enough to tip her off balance. Before she could scream, Solas watched from too far away as she pitched forward and disappeared into the roiling sea.

For a brief, silent moment, he waited for her to reemerge.

She didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

It was as bad as she remembered it.

The water knocked the air from her like a blow to the gut, and she was swallowed whole. Her armor sunk her surely as a ship anchor. One instant she was standing, _breathing_ , pulling back against the draw of the rift with every aching muscle, and suddenly the sky was gone, suddenly everything was salt and burning and darkness and _terror_ —deep, sinking _terror_ because there was no light, no sound but the roaring current, no indicator of which way was _up_ , and oh, gods, _she couldn’t fight this,_ couldn’t _see_ was too heavy _couldn’t_ -

She never got to scream. Couldn’t. Her lungs were already filling with water.

As the current sucked her down, she felt the ocean floor disappearing, and from beneath, a terrible, terrible depth.

They would never find her.

* * *

 It was Cassandra who first realized. She stripped off the heaviest of her armor in a matter of seconds and dove into the water after her before anyone else fully processed what had happened. Sera came tearing past, spitting curses, but Solas wasn’t paying attention to her at the moment.

There was no sign of either beneath the roaring surf. This was _wrong,_ had been wrong from the start. He inwardly cursed, or prayed, or perhaps a mix of both. Above all he ran.

Bull knocked into him in passing without bothering to look back. “You were supposed to _watch her._ ”

Was this his responsibility now? That wasn’t fair; Lavellan was _fearless,_ how could he predict she would-

Something was very, very _wrong_.

Sera paced the water’s edge, frantic, screaming futile threats into the wind. They’d been under for far too long.

He was about to give up on the Seeker, go after her himself, when moments later she emerged, sputtering, dragging the Inquisitor behind her. “I need help!”

Sera gracelessly shoved him out of the way to help Bull pull them up onto the docks, Lavellan— _alive_ —held tight at Cassandra’s side. They collapsed on the dock in a wet heap. Lavellan dragged herself forward as soon as her nails found purchase, scrambled away from the edge on hands and knees, until a hacking cough doubled her over. She heaved up seawater between panicked gasps, legs quaking too badly to stand. Had to get away from the water away from that terrible _depth_ -

Her jaw snapped open to suck back a desperate lungful of oxygen, but it never came; never reached her burning lungs. She gasped in, in, _in_ but couldn’t release, couldn’t unfreeze, couldn’t _breathe_.

Cassandra caught her before she could shatter; pulled her in with an arm tight to her back. “You’re alright,” she assured, “ _Breathe._ ”

She exhaled in a scream.

Solas moved to help—to comfort, hold, _something,_ anything to stop the shaking—but Cassandra looked up with a livid glare that froze him in place. “ _Give her space,_ ” she hissed through gritted teeth.

He would have ignored the command, had Iron Bull not halted him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

For a long stretch of seconds, Lavellan just _screamed_ —a broken, sonorous release of sound that left her hoarse. When her cracked voice finally gave out, she could only sob, silent and shivering, in Cassandra’s arms.

This was wrong. And he’d known that, but… Solas didn’t understand how it had escalated this far, how he’d _let it._ The thousand apologies he’d readied evaporated, suddenly meaningless. He’d never heard her scream like that _._ Not like…

For once, he had no idea what to do.

“We should get back to camp,” Cassandra was saying. “The rift is sealed. We have no business in this place.”

Lavellan mumbled ashamed _sorry’s_ between breaths, to which Cassandra made a thoroughly outraged noise. “This was a victory,” she affirmed, and helped her to her feet. “Nothing less. Now we can _leave_.”

Sera broke past and threw herself at the elf in a clinging hug, still swearing gibberish. “Shit, stupid fucking rifts, stupid _demons,_ stupid ocean garbage frigging _shit._ ” She finally released her, but only to link her arm tightly with hers. “Come on, let’s go back to camp, yeah? We’ll get fuck-off smashed. Forget the stupid ocean and all its stupid…damp-y-ness. Sounds good, right?”

Lavellan was still breathing too fast, too shallow, her mouth a thin, hard line above a quivering chin. She tried to maintain an even tone. Failed. “I just want to leave.”

“Already gone,” Sera promised, and Solas realized her grip on Lavellan’s arm was the only thing holding the warrior up.

This wasn’t like Adamant. This wasn’t… What had he _done?_ He finally broke, ducked away from Bull and went for her hand. “Vhenan-”

She jerked back from his touch as if burned. “ _Don’t touch me_.” But it was all wrong; she was _wrong,_ and he had made a grave mistake. She’d splayed a hand over her face, guiltily hiding wet eyes. The whole of her seemed to inwardly shrink. “Just…leave me alone. Let me…I can deal with this, _leave_.”

“Lilith, _please_...”

Sera shouldered her way between them with a withering scowl. “We’re _leaving,_ ” she repeated, louder. She shoved by him with needless force, Cassandra following close behind. Solas was left to watch, feeling wholly and utterly _useless_ , as the two ushered her back up the cliffside.

He’d known something was wrong, but not like this. How could he have anticipated _this?_

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an approaching figure stop beside him. “What’d I tell you?” Bull asked.

His reply came as a warning. “Not now.”

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question. I’m asking you. What did you think ‘watch her’ _meant?_ ”

“ _I didn’t think_ -”

“No,” he interrupted, and the suddenness of it silenced any potential bubbling argument. “You didn’t.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ever since they’d returned to camp, Sera and Lavellan had been closed up in her tent. Silent. Solas caught a brief glimpse of them in passing before Cassandra ordered him away—both elves cross-legged on her bedroll, whispering discussions in the candlelight. Sera seemed to be miming something profane. For a fleeting moment he thought he heard something like a laugh—but perhaps that was wishful thinking. Lavellan had her back to him, motionless. Somehow looking smaller than he remembered.

Something had broken within her, and he hadn’t stopped it. He constructed apology after apology in his head, but never quite gained the confidence to voice any. None of them seemed right.

They set out on the return trip to Skyhold the next morning. Lavellan was quiet—a rare and foreign state for her. Solas did not enjoy it. There was something unnerving about a wild thing falling silent. Like a forest after a fire.

This should not be.

If the others noticed—and they _must_ have—they said nothing. Sera stayed tethered to her side, rattling off stories he was sure were false. (Or at least greatly exaggerated.) Part of him was grateful—if anyone could offer a distraction, it was _Sera,_ and Lavellan…needed distracting. Another part of him was less pleased.

Perhaps he was paranoid, but he was sure he caught Cassandra glaring at him.

As for the Inquisitor…well. They spoke only once. She’d fallen far to the back of the party, finally alone, and Solas slowed to a stroll beside her. “Do you intend to avoid me forever, or only until we reach Skyhold?”

Her gaze stayed focused on the path ahead. “If I was avoiding you, we wouldn’t be talking right now,” she reminded, but the corner of her lips quirked upward in a crooked smile. “Are you doubting my sneakiness?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he vowed. “…I had hoped we might speak privately.”

She slowed to a halt, finally giving him her full attention. “Yeah. Of course.”

“What _happened?_ ”

The smile was gone as quickly as it came. “Nothing.”

“Lilith.” She always responded when he used her first name—for better or for worse. It was a comfort, he supposed, to at least be able to predict that.  

True to form: “I don’t want to talk about it. Just…forget it, alright? It was stupid. Forget it.”

“You can hardly expect me to accept that as an answer.”

“That’s exactly what I expect. This week’s just been _full_ of surprises.”

“Something is wrong,” he pressed.

“I don’t want to do this right now. Please.”

“ _Lilith-_ ”

“ _Solas,_ ” she echoed in a caricature of his tone. “ _What?_ What do you want?”

Far ahead of them, Iron Bull abruptly turned back, eyebrow raised. Solas surrendered with a frustrated sigh. “Nothing. You obviously have it under control.”

The sharpness of his voice sent her eyes narrowing, lips pulling tight into a bitter smirk. “Let’s not start with the passive aggression. Neither of us ever wins that fight.”

“Of course,” he agreed. “My _sincerest_ apologies.” He regretted it almost instantly. Sarcasm? _Really?_ He’d entered this whole painful endeavor with the intent to apologize, and instead miraculously picked a fight. Truly incredible. But he supposed he saw this coming, in a sense. No one could break him down like Lavellan—could unmake him, unravel his carefully constructed persona with a single tug of thread until suddenly he was a much different man. Younger. Angrier. _Stupider,_ apparently. He felt his defenses stripped bare. This wasn’t right.

“…I did not mean-”

“Whatever,” she cut off, and it was in that awful, foreign voice that wasn’t _hers._ “We’re done here.”

They didn’t speak again until Skyhold.

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure which one did it. Cassandra and Sera were both likely candidates; maybe even Iron Bull, although that was less likely. In an odd way, Solas considered Bull a friend—unlike a particular foul-mouthed archer, who he’d leave unnamed. Whoever the culprit, someone had said _something_. Or perhaps it really was that obvious solely from the tense distance Lavellan had kept between them ever since they entered the gates. She’d retreated to her quarters mere minutes upon arriving, eerily silent and all too obviously _wrong_.

Whoever, or whatever, gave him away went fast. They hadn’t been back for more than an hour when a book dropped from the second floor library, only narrowly missing his head. “Terribly sorry,” Dorian called from above, and managed not to sound _at all_ sorry. “Slippery books.”

Vivienne tried to trip him.

Solas supposed he deserved both.

It was Iron Bull, though, whose interaction left him the most miserable. He was in the hall, keeping surreptitious watch on the Inquisitor’s locked door, when a looming presence cast him in shadow.

“You,” Iron Bull informed, “fucked up.”

For once Solas agreed. Still. “Is this truly necessary?”

“Do you want my advice or not?” When he met with no argument, he continued. “You’re putting her up on this pedestal, but she’s only human. Or, elf, whatever. A really fucking weird one, but still. You need to get a better handle on that perspective.”

“I take it you do not have the same problem.”

“Well, yeah, no shit. I drink with her. It’s hard to see someone as unbreakable after you’ve personally watched them puke up seventeen beers.”

Solas let his head fall despairingly into his hands with a deep, mournful sigh. “That is…entirely too many.”

“I’m saying she’s got _limits._ You shouldn’t have to be a spy to figure that out.”

One would certainly think.

 

The day dragged on, and Lavellan remained suspiciously absent. Eventually even Varric started casting wary glances his way.

“Something happen to Killer that no one’s telling me about?”

Solas inwardly cringed. “Must that really be her nickname?”

“Fine. _Waffles,_ then. So did something happen, or what?

“No.”

“No, nothing happened, or no, you’re not answering that?”

“At this point? Whichever.”

Varric only rolled his eyes. “Such _drama._ What, did you push her off a cliff or something?”

“Well.” That could very well be debated.

 

It was late when Sera finally tracked him down. He was still shuffling through reports atop his desk, trying to fill silent hours with busywork in hopes of staving off the inevitable. He wasn’t sure Lavellan wanted to see him tonight. Was even less sure if he wanted to find out for certain. He didn’t hear Sera enter until she abruptly cleared her throat.

“Okay, you screwed up,” she announced. “But she’s my friend, and you screwing up is screwing _her,_ so. Hello, get a visit from me, then.”

Solas barely held back a curse. Of all the people… “What now, Sera?”

He was answered by a swift punch to the arm. “She’s not frigging _invincible,_ you twat. I mean, she acts it up like she is, but she’s really just a _person_. And not giving a shit when something’s got her freaked? Not alright.”

Well. At least part of that was expected. He rubbed absently at his arm, already thoroughly exhausted with the conversation. “My apologies. Did you want me to somehow disappear the ocean to make her happy?”

“She was scared,” she said. “And you did fuck all!”

“I misjudged,” he admitted, and it sounded wrong even as it was coming from his mouth. Misjudged may have been an understatement.

“Well, make it better! That’s supposed to be the whole _point_ of you, isn’t it? She doesn’t need someone to help her _fight,_ she’s got stupid soldiers and that fuck-off big axe and her whole magic-Herald-hand thingy. She’s got that covered. But you know what she _does_ need?” She jammed a pointed finger accusingly into his sternum. “Some basic pisshead mage to treat her like a _person!_ ”

He moved to argue and she silenced him with a raised hand. “No, shut it, _I’m_ talking. She puts up a front like she’s got everything handled, but she only does that so nobody freaks out. Like she’s got to be this great example, or something. Well, that’s grand and all, but she can’t be that all the time, can she? Or at least she shouldn’t _have_ to. And that’s what you’re supposed to be for, yeah? You’re supposed to _help_. And that mess on the coast? Not frigging helping!”

With a frustrated cry, she threw her hands in the air. “Look, you daft arsehole, I’m telling you this so you can _fix it._ Not for your stupid sake, but for _hers_. You’re her weird elfy boyfriend or something; go be there when she needs you! Andraste’s perky _tits,_ she’s not _fearless_.”

The hail of vitriol building on the tip of his tongue died away in a sudden swell of guilt. That was…oddly insightful. “Thank you, Sera,” he relented after a pause. “…this has been helpful.”

She folded her arms with a scowl. “Right, are you having a go at me? ‘Cause it’s hard to tell with you.”

Yes, well. That was fair. “Sincerely,” he clarified. “Thank you.” For all her faults (and Solas could list many), Sera was likely one of the few true friends Lavellan had. She was certainly the most passionate. That was commendable, if nothing else. “She is fortunate to have you.”

“Whatever,” she muttered. “Just…make her all not-sad again, yeah?”

He sincerely hoped he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> solas you gigantic ancient idiot


	4. Chapter 4

Lavellan’s room was seemingly empty at first glance, the massive Orlesian bed untouched, lanterns dark. Fool as he was, though, Solas still knew _some_ things about her. As expected, he found her on the balcony—back pressed to the wall and knees drawn tight to her chest, staring out into a cloudless night.  
She liked the cold.

He closed the balcony door softly behind him. “May I join you?”

She hummed out a reply that sounded affirmative. He was grateful just to merit a response. “…Lilith, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know what it is to drown?” she asked, and something in her voice cracked. “It’s awful because you don’t even notice it, in the end. Even when you know it’s coming. It sneaks up on you. No one ever tells you that it _sneaks up_ on you.”

Oh.

_Oh,_ no.

“ _Emma lath_ …”

“Sometimes at night I dream of it,” she went on, and he wasn’t sure she was even still speaking to him. “Of the ground dropping out from beneath me. Of a terrible depth. What’s that thing they say about gazing too long into an abyss?” She dropped her head into folded arms, effectively hiding her face. The effort was wasted, though—he didn’t need to see her to know she was crying. He could hear it in her voice. Soft, racking sobs in the pauses between sentences.

He remembered Adamant again, but different this time—lit up in places, as if someone shined a spotlight on his memories. The Fade— _her nightmares_ —full of so much water.

She’d buried her deepest fears somewhere the Nightmare could not reach; distracted it with lesser demons in their stead, molded into the form of so many spiders. But the Fade was shaped by intent, and emotion. Remain focused, and it could lead you where you wished to go. Lavellan had exceptional focus. But she was not perfect, and the Fade offered never ending distraction. The deeper they traveled, the deeper the water pooled. It poured in torrents from the murky heights above them; steadily rose until dry land became scarce. Until eventually they were met with a black and endless sea, and the demon that took Hawke.

He had wondered why the Fade took the form it did, but never asked her. Had never thought she would have had the answer.

How had he not _noticed?_

Newly illuminated memories lined up and clicked suddenly into place. The corpses in Old Crestwood, the drowned villagers…she’d dragged him along to personally collect the bodies. Insisted. _“They deserve to be found.”_ She’d regarded them with such pity, such grim _horror_. It hadn’t struck him as out of place at the time—Lavellan was fueled by tea and justice in equal parts, after all; furious compassion was just a default state.

He’d chalked the macabre expedition up to her glaring inability to turn down requests, but that had been a mistake.

The mayor she’d sentenced to death. Gregory Dedrick. “A swift death,” she’d ordered, knuckles turning white under the force with which she gripped her throne. “I won’t make you suffer as you made them suffer. I am not so cruel. Let’s hope the afterlife is as merciful to you.”

He’d pleaded with the Maker to forgive his sins, and she’d leaned forward and hissed “ _No_.”

Solas remembered the argument that followed; the uneasy night in separate rooms. He’d called her verdict harsh; a needless death, more blood on her hands. “You could have exiled him,” he’d argued. “Living with the guilt of his choices was punishment enough. Have you been reduced to murdering prisoners out of convenience, now?”

“He drowned people!” she argued. “It was cruel and unusual, and emphatically _not his call to make_.”

“They were doomed regardless. He only brought death quicker.”

“ _Death,_ ” she spat, “is not the worst fate.”

She wouldn’t even speak to him after that. Not for a few days. It took until now for him to realize why.

Solas looked at her—face still buried in her arms, trying and failing at swallowing back sobs. Where he normally saw a warrior, their indomitable Inquisitor, fearless leader, instead he saw a tired Dalish girl trying desperately to save the world. Alone.

Sera was right.

“Fuck,” she swore, “this is so _stupid._ I’m _better_ than this.”

“You’re a _person_ ,” he corrected. “And sometimes I forget you are not invincible.” He offered his hand. “Can you blame me?”

“Yes.” After a clandestine swipe to her eyes, she tentatively accepted his hand, and he lifted her to her feet. “But I’ll let you off the hook this once.” She let her head drop against his shoulder, and he savored the weight. “I _am_ pretty close to invincible.”

“I’m sorry. This should not have happened, and I facilitated it.”

“Yeah. Well.” Her eyelids slipped shut with a weary sigh. “I just…don’t want to do that again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, and pulled her into an embrace. “I won’t.”

For a long while they stayed like that—arms dropped loosely across the small of her back, her head resting against his chest. Finally, the creeping feeling of wrongness was ebbing away, replaced with something…softer. His arms tightened around her. “Do you wish to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Ah. Another topic, then.”

A sigh. Then, quiet: “…what did you want to ask?”

He took a moment to decide. “Is it the prospect of death that scares you, or specifically the water?”

“Neither? I don’t know. I fear all death equally. It’s the manner of getting there I’ve got preferences about.”

“You’ve never spoken of it before.”

“I’d rather not speak of it _now_.”

“Fair enough.”

She shifted; twined her fingers in the cord around his neck, traced her thumb over the edge of the jawbone. “Who were you before this?”

He hoped she hadn’t felt him tense. A discussion for another time— _soon,_ definitely. Eventually. But not now. Please, not now. “Does it matter?”

“It does.”

“I was a very different man. That should be enough.”

It was a weak answer by his own admission, but he felt her nod regardless. “I’ve been a lot of different people,” she said, voice dropping low. “Maybe this one isn’t so keen on the icy depths below us. Let’s just…leave it at that and move on. Or if you really want to make it fair, you can expose one of _your_ deepest fears and _I’ll_ go tell everyone about it. So we’re square.”

“I believe you walked through a literal graveyard of my fears, actually.”

“I did,” she agreed, and she sounded almost proud. “There was a headstone for you and everything. ‘Dying alone,’ was it? Would you care to explore _that?_ ”

“You’ve made your point. I’ll cease asking questions.”

“Good.” She pressed her cheek flat against him and took a deep, steady breath. “…I still haven’t told them all. About that specific part of our Fade-venture. Fear cemetery, and whatnot.”

“I can’t imagine why. I hear deep existential dread can be quite the conversation starter.”

“I’m sure. ‘How goes it, Varric? I heard you’re terrified of becoming your parents. Yikes. And ah! Blackwall! Your greatest fear is, cryptically, _yourself_. Anything to add to that?’ That’ll be sure to liven up the next party.”

“I don’t know. You may actually manage to throw Vivienne, and that would almost make it worthwhile.”

She laughed—the first genuine laugh he’d heard in far, far too long. “Let’s be realistic. Nothing could throw Vivienne.”

“Interesting, though. I don’t recall there being a headstone for you.”

“My darkest fears are too complex and interesting to be summed up in three words or less, obviously.”

He wouldn’t contest that. “Barring this fictional word limit, what would yours have said?”

“Stupid mage boyfriends, probably,” she decided with a shrug, and he had to smile.

“Charming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> great you still get to sleep on the couch

**Author's Note:**

> y'all's comments give me life; thank (๑●ᴗ●๑)


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